For those that still read this rubbish, you might like to know that I am also on twitter. I cannot in all honesty recommend you follow me on twitter because frankly I wouldn’t. Those that do get treated to enlightening thoughts every so often on the lines of “oo, I could do with a can of lout about now” and not much else. You’d be quite justified in thinking you were not missing that much. Much like this blog, really.
However twitter has lots of other people on it that often say interesting things. Note I say interesting and not intelligent, thought through or even correct. From people exposing footballers that sleep with their sister in law, to people moaning about phone hacking journalists or even low grade big brother celebs having public slanging matches with other even lower grade big brother celebs, all of human life is as they say here. It can be a fascinating thing to tune in or out of.
It’s a pity then that on Saturday mornings I miss the amusing but pointless and futile attempts by a small group of beer bloggers to get some beer onto a Saturday morning TV show called Saturday Kitchen. Saturday Kitchen is one of those shows it’s really not worth getting out of bed on a Saturday morning for. There used to be proper shows on a Saturday morning like Going Live which featured the best comedians ever to grace the TV (not including the Chuckle Brothers which are the actual best ever), Trevor & Simon. It is a travesty they are not on TV anymore yelling “We don’t do duvets” at the kids of Britain. Now I would tweet a campaign to bring them back.
My view of Saturday mornings basically is that when I was I kid I had to get up because my mum made me. A combination of Trevor and Simon and Coco Pops made it tolerable. As an adult my lovely lady occasionally makes me get up because we are going somewhere but by and large I can lie in bed and if she suggests I get up I can do one of 3 things. Drag her under the duvet and make hot passionate love to her, gently slap her on the arse, say “cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss, treacle” and await her hitting me with a pillow and then dragging her under the duvet and make hot passionate love to her or last but not least farting then dragging her under the duvet and laughing before making hot passionate love to her. The farting is what we northern English types like to also call “foreplay”. The hot passionate love I am assured is the best 90 seconds (yes, we do it 3 times) of her weekend and she is so overcome with pleasure I then end up making the tea myself.
So all in all I miss Saturday Kitchen. From what I gather I am not missing much. Some people cook some stuff, some celebs plug whatever it is they are plugging and most controversially some barstool actually recommends a bottle of wine to go with the grub that’s been knocked up. The dirty rotten wine drinking barstool. How dare he? Words cannot express the obvious disgust that someone would dare suggest a bottle of fruity nice wine available in a supermarket for around a fiver that goes with grilled sea bass.
Someone ought to take him round the back of the studio and knock some sense into him until he goes out and buys some of Hardknott Dave’s lovely pongy but expensive and difficult to get hold of proud British beer! You can follow this noble campaign to get the TV to promote and plug Dave’s beer here, here and here and join the objection to a TV cookery show that so far refuses to promote and plug Dave’s beer. Don’t mention that TV has had a few beer related TV shows in recent years even though they have been sub Top Gear banter type rubbish featuring a Top Gear presenter, a comedian, a wine buff that likes beer or even an actor off a sitcom and his mate opening a pub because they have never mentioned Dave’s beer.
I cannot be bothered to get up and watch Saturday Kitchen and tweet along but please make sure you do. I think I speak for lovers of cheap lager everywhere when I express my unwavering support for the endeavour. We cannot let these wine drinking sods win and don’t stop until they feature Dave’s beer on their telly show!